I’m fun to play with. I have cool accessories, too.
I’m smart, flexible, funny, pretty, saucy and cross-eyed over him. He can do no wrong, tells the funniest jokes I’ve ever heard and I exploit the fact that I know his favorite things well enough to spoil him.
I catch a lot of flak for it, but hear me out.
I’ve been married, I’ve had all the children I want and I’m determined to be happy without expecting someone else to deliver it to me.
I have so many reasons to be grateful while juggling a shitload of dumpster fires. My life has not been easy and I have always had to work a little harder than the other girls. It’s my own fault- I’m not looking for sympathy. I’ve had the opportunity of an easy life and chose to hold out for magic instead.
I choose magic, every time. I always will.
I’d rather get my heart broken at 80 than not know how it feels to be lit on fire from the inside out. I’m completely content alone and love my own company. I’ve learned to read more and knit enough to keep all my friends’ heads warm.
Happiness isn’t a man, a possession or a location, for me. I feel like one of the lucky few who knows what it is to really love and be loved. I can’t settle for less than that. Nobody should.
I love hard. I give all of me, up. I can’t do it any other way and I absolutely know that someone is going to benefit from my refusal to accept and wear anyone else’s expectations of me. Even if I’m that someone.
I’m stubborn in ways that have ruined my life on occasion. I have a fierce refusal to believe the worst about anyone I love and when my friends look at me and say:
P- I know you think you love him, but I think you need someone with A, B or C. <go ahead and insert your favorite job, ideology or bank balance. All of my friends think he owes me something different.>
Collective opinion: “We want to see you vacation and be spoiled. We want you to be chased down like you deserve.”
I’ve heard this statement so many times in regards to him that I’ve started to get defensive. That’s why I’m writing this.
I’ll be blunt. I have enough. I have everything I ever wanted and have worked hard for each detail.
I have a home, I have a car and I have a great job. I have two of my three children in my life and I’m living a life the third would be proud of in case he ever comes back. I know a lot of cool stuff and give of my time and abilities every time I get the chance.
I don’t pine for him to rescue me because I don’t need saving. I pay my own way and don’t want him for what he could add to my bottom line. It’s not his job that lights me up, it’s the quiet parts of him he keeps guarded.
It’s his heart I’m after. It’s the contents of his character that I want to keep.
I think in a lifetime spent being admired physically that there’s something irresistible about a man who’s inspired me to love him without touching me or telling me I’m pretty. He reads me like a book, teases me out of the dark corners I retreat to and then there’s the smile that kicks my feet out from under me.
I love that all the people who adore me want to fill my life with vacations and long stemmed roses. The intention is good, but I grow my own flowers and find immeasurable peace in my own home.
What most girls want doesn’t work for me.
I want lazy Sundays wrapped in his dirty flannel shirt and panties. I want hangover breakfast and red beers in a dingy cafe with that smile I adore just across the table from me.
I want the simple details, not some grandiose fantasy version of real life. I get more joy being wrapped up in something that smells like him than I ever would from a diamond ring or a vacation to the tropics.
He likes to play with me… and I like to let him.
What good is your heart if you don’t use it?